


as we endured

by greatduwangs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Era, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Professor Regulus Black, Regulus Black Lives, Regulus Black-centric, The kids get therapy, no beta we die like men, technically Therapist Regulus but who cares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28976928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatduwangs/pseuds/greatduwangs
Summary: Regulus Black wanted to die, at that moment.  He wanted to die, and Sirius made him live.So, he'd do his damned best to make sure the next generation lived too.AU // Regulus lives, redeems himself in the eyes of the Order, and joins the Hogwarts Staff as a therapist.  If only his salary included 'helping to save Hogwarts every year since Potter arrived'.
Relationships: Regulus Black & Harry Potter, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 128





	1. Chapter 1

If there were a God, or some sort of deity out there, they would have a lot to answer for. The world he lived in was bleak, and terrible, and  _ oh-so-gruesome _ , yet he was expected to live amongst the cruellest of men. Having rejected his very family and clan, out of his own moral compass, he was now alone. Save for the very house elf that stayed by his side - but even Kreacher was now gone, gone to destroy the locket in whatever way he can. With a satisfied smile upon his lips, and his last words written down on the small note in the fake locket, Regulus felt the inferi reach for his legs.

Drowning was not the way he’d imagine he would end up going out, nor was being succumbed by the very dark magic his (former) master had conjured. He’d always been afraid of deep waters. The fact that they barely knew what lurked below, even with their magic, scared him to no end. This was no different.

Disfigured hands grabbed and pulled him down, tugging at his robes and flesh and  _ choking him _ with their whispers. He’d been holding his breath for a while now, and, through some miracle, he hadn’t let go yet. As for why - he had no idea. Perhaps it was some deep-rooted instinct to live, or maybe he wanted to defy his Lord one more time. The answer never came to him, for he was too intent on living for the moment, despite the death warrant he’d practically signed.

Finally, he let go of his breath, opening his mouth to let in some air - but instead of air, he was greeted with murky waters that rushed through his throat and flooded his lungs. It was over. He’d reached the end of the line.

Regulus took one final glance up at the sky - yet there was no sky to look at, for he was trapped in that dank cave in his final moments. He smiled, knowing that his Lord had a weakness, and that someone, someday, could finish him off. 

The cave above him was illuminated in a fiery orange for just a moment, and Regulus died.

And then he woke up.

Hands were grabbing at him again, yet this time they were warm and familiar. He vaguely heard some shouting, and someone casting spells of fire around them, but yet he couldn’t place a name to the voice. Regulus sputtered and coughed up water, heaving for breath and exhausting the last of the lake out of his system. Another hand was at his back, rubbing him gently yet angrily all at the same time.

“- Bloody idiot you are, what the  _ hell  _ were you thinking -”

Regulus knew that voice. 

“- We must escape, quickly! Kreacher-”

So Kreacher was here too. And so was - Regulus took a moment to register the voice - Albus Dumbledore. That explained some things. Like, for instance, how he was not dead. But yet it didn’t explain. . . 

“S-Sirius?” Regulus managed to croak out, his voice hoarse and weary. His vision was blurry, his gaze fixed upon the ground. “What - why - here?”

He felt his head being lifted up, and he stared at the outline of his brother. “We can talk later, but you are in  _ so  _ much trouble, young man!”

Regulus would have laughed at the pathetic attempt of impersonating their mother had the situation not been so dire. Instead, he let himself be pulled up, his body encased in the warm embrace of others, and felt as he was disapparated away.

He didn’t know how long he slept for. Minutes, hours, days - all that he knew was that he was waking up with a resounding headache, and that he was bound to a bed. While it was certainly more comfortable than a cell in Azkaban, it still served as a reminder that he was a  _ prisoner _ at that moment, in the hands of the enemy.

(Who, exactly, his enemy was at that moment was unclear to him. He seemed to be facing the entire world, just himself and Kreacher together against everyone else.)

His eyes fluttered open, cool grey gaze on the creamy ceiling above him. The light almost blinded him, for a moment, before he adjusted to it and looked around him. It was a simple room he was locked in. Not as extravagant as the ancient House of Black, nor was it as dark as a cell in some sort of prison. No, he seemed to be in some sort of guest room. A room belonging to a house of someone who was  _ very  _ into Quidditch, judging by the posters on the walls. 

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, unable to rub them at the moment. He had to admit, the room gave him a feeling of  _ home _ \- not like Grimmauld Place, but of a proper, friendly house. Yet there was one room in Grimmauld Place that reminded him of this.

As if Sirius knew that Regulus was thinking about him, the man walked into the room, holding a vial in one hand and a cloth in the other. Regulus widened his eyes, and Sirius did the same.

“Reg,” Sirius breathed, frozen solid at the door. 

“Sirius.” It took all of his energy not to sob at that moment. “You saved me.”

Sirius frowned before closing the door behind him and approaching his brother’s side. He placed the cloth - damp and warm - onto Regulus’ head, before taking a seat next to the bed. Regulus heard him tap his foot in thought, his arms crossed and fuming. Funnily enough, he reminded Regulus of when they were young, and they both got in trouble for something. 

He was about to tell Sirius this, but was cut off.

“You betrayed Voldemort,” Sirius said, ignoring Regulus’ flinch. It was a statement, not a question. Kreacher must have told them - them being Dumbledore and Sirius.

Regulus nodded. “I did.”

“Why?”

The question that plagued his very mind, day after day.  _ Why _ ? Why did he choose to forgo the life he’d been promised? It would have been so easy just to live on as a Death Eater, to reach for that Promised Land that had been waiting for Purebloods like him. Yet his heart ached with the memory of every person he hurt, of every Unforgivable that passed through his wand, and of every bruise Kreacher had suffered.

Finally, the answer came to him.

“I was sick of bowing before a villain,” Regulus said. “I was sick of doing his dirty work. I was sick of living up to our family’s expectations, just because we’re purebloods.”

He never killed - a fact that often lead to him being teased by his cousins. Perhaps that was the first sign that he never truly belonged with them.

“I wanted to be like you, Siri.” 

Sirius froze at his words, his arms slowly falling down to his sides, and an incredulous look upon his face. As if he couldn’t believe that his  _ Death Eater  _ brother still admired him after all these years.

“You wanted to be the family disappointment?”

“I wanted to be brave,” said Regulus, without a moment’s hesitation.

His brother seemed to be contemplating his words, leaning forward and running a hand through his long dark locks. The room was quiet, save for the beat of Regulus’ own heart and the sigh that occasionally slipped through Sirius’ lips. 

“I’m happy for you, Reg, I really am.”

Regulus waited for the  _ but _ .

“But this isn’t going to magically fix everything, you know. The people you’ve hurt, the lives you ended -”

“I never killed anyone!” Regulus snapped. “Check my wand, I never casted the killing curse!”

“Yes, just  _ imperio  _ and  _ crucio _ \- Reg, do you think that’s any better?” Sirius shot back, standing up over Regulus’ body. “You were an accomplice to one of the darkest wizards of this century, you’ve taken  _ his  _ mark, and you made good old mum and dad proud! Does that make you happy? Do you think that made  _ me  _ happy, knowing that going out there, I might have to face my brother one day?”

Regulus snarled and pulled at his invisible restraints, to no avail. He didn’t know what he wanted to do then - not attack Sirius, sure, but one little punch wouldn’t have hurt. “Of course it didn’t make me happy, you - you toadskin!” he yelled. “You think it was any easier for me? Everyone breathing down my neck, expecting me to be the  _ good  _ brother, to not turn out a traitor like you! And look at me now!”

He nodded down towards his body.

“Fix things? Ha!” 

Sirius was enraged, yet did not interrupt him.

“I did not intend to fix things - I wanted to  _ die  _ then. I wanted to spend eternity in hell, and yet  _ you saved me _ . Do not speak of fixing and redemption when my only goal was to  _ end  _ the Dark Lord. I have no interest in fixing what’s broken.”

Silence fell upon them once again, the words falling upon his brother’s ears. Regulus was heaving, his face red and his hands shaking. He was sure if he continued raging on he would have popped a vein - so his last words were calm yet bitter. Perhaps he did end up in hell after all. He died in that cave, and this was his punishment. To lay here and listen to his brother berating him forever.

He risked glancing over to Sirius. To his surprise, his brother’s face was not one of anger - no, it was one of sorrow.

“You wanted to die,” Sirius stated. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

Sirius dropped his head down. “You still want to die?”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. “Are you going to kiss me?”

“What? Gross, Reg -”

“I meant a Dementor’s kiss,” he quickly corrected. Both of the brothers scowled at the thought beforehand, their expressions turning much more grim at the mention of Dementors. Horrid creatures, they were, and Regulus would much rather be on the receiving end of the cruciatus curse than be faced with those monstrosities.

Sirius shook his head. “No one knows you’re here. ‘Cept for Dumbledore, me, the little runt -”

“ _ Kreacher _ .”

“- and Remus. No one else in the Order knows, and no one on the other side knows, as far as we’re aware.” A pause. “You didn’t - you didn’t  _ tell  _ anyone about what you did, right?”

Now it was Regulus’ turn to shake his head. “Only people who should have known were me and Kreacher - why Remus Lupin?”

“I’m staying with him,” Sirius said, and if he thought he was being discreet with the way his cheeks turned slightly pink then he truly was the idiot brother. “He’s letting us use this house as a hideout. It was this or handing you in to the Ministry.” His expression soured. “We both know how much I hate authority.”

“That’s nothing new.” Regulus looked up to the ceiling, thoughts ticking through his head. Memories of younger days, when Sirius would stand up to their parents’ bigotry and abuse. But not him - never Regulus. Regulus was too soft, Sirius would say, too fragile. He always agreed, and took the path that gave him the least amount of pain.

A coward. He was a coward then.

He still was.

“I’m going to tell the Order about you,” Sirius said suddenly. Regulus blinked. “Dumbledore and Remus think it’s a good idea. Dumbledore also wanted to talk to you when you were awake.”

Dumbledore. The name that struck fear into every Death Eater, yet gave him a sense of hope now. 

“If all goes well - you might be put under house arrest, and under the Order’s watch twenty-four seven.” 

“And if it doesn’t?”

Sirius shrugged. “They’re good people, Reg. Not like the crowd you were with.”

Regulus sighed, tired of defending Slytherin to his brother. 

“If possible, somewhere down the line, you might -  _ might  _ \- be able to join the Order. Not making any promises, though.”

“Why would I want to?” Regulus asked.

“Because you want to kill that son of a bitch as much as we do. Think of it as your community service, too.”

He knew exactly who Sirius referred to, and he had to agree - he wanted nothing more than to see the Dark Lord and his empire crumble. Yet the thought of working with the Order, full of the people that now surely detested him... it was an unpleasant feeling. 

“I better owl Dumbledore. Tell him you’re awake. Don’t move.” Sirius moved towards the door. 

Regulus didn’t bother to tell him that he could not, in fact, move. Instead, he thought to his situation, to that moment in the cave, to Kreacher, to the Order, to  _ everything  _ running through his head.

It at least gave him some hope to know that he could play a hand in defeating the Dark Lord - in  _ Voldemort _ .

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regulus spills the beans, and Sirius has Emotions™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect this to get so many hits and kudos so quickly? Thank you guys so much! There's a lot more to come and a lot more good old Regulus content coming this way, so stay tuned! We have a fair few amount of chapters before Harry arrives, but more Marauders is always good, right?

For someone about to face the ‘man the Dark Lord feared most’, Regulus was oddly calm. He surmised it was due to having a near-death experience, and that Albus Dumbledore was not, in fact, a dark magic-infused corpse dragging him into the abyss. In retrospect, the headmaster was rather kind, especially to him during his school days, and that kindness somehow soothed him. Even with his body being bound to the bed.

Regulus wasn’t an idiot. He knew that whatever would be waiting for him, his  _ punishment _ , would be hell. Even if he wasn’t bound for Azkaban, he was going to be under the watch of the Order. The very same Order that loathed him and his house’s guts. He would, at the very least, be faced with hostility at every turn. 

But didn’t he deserve it? His eyes brimmed with tears.  _ Foolish boy _ , a voice said in his head, in a voice that sounded too much like his father and the Dark Lord all in one.  _ If you’re scared of the Blood Traitors and Mud-Bloods, then you must be too weak to defeat him _ .

“I know, I know, I know,” he muttered under his breath. He  _ was  _ too weak.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t help in some way.

The creaking of the door pulled him out of his self-loathing for a moment, and the quiet footsteps told him this was not Sirius. Closing his eyes, Regulus greeted his old headmaster with a simple, “Hello, Professor.”

He opened them, and Albus Dumbledore was in his field of vision. The old man looked just as Regulus remembered him - that twinkle in his eyes had never left. Yet he could tell that there was something more in the man’s head. That he was thinking of what, exactly, to do with Regulus.

“Hello, Mr. Black.”

Regulus winced at the use of his last name. Just another reminder of the legacy he had to keep.

Dumbledore seemed to notice this, for his next words deliberately avoided his last name. “I’ll remove those bindings from you, Regulus.”

With a wave of his wind, Regulus felt the bindings disappear. Shocked, he sat up, staring at his unbound hands in awe and confusion. Frowning, he looked to Dumbledore. “Are you sure?”

“Sirius and Remus think it wise to leave them on,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “But I believe anyone who would be willing to risk their life to end Voldemort’s is deserving of respect.”

Regulus was astounded that the professor - a man who, by all accounts, should hate him for betraying the Wizarding World - showed him such  _ respect _ . “Thank - thank you,” he managed to stammer. He bowed his head down, hiding his eyes from Dumbledore so the older man wouldn’t be able to see the tears brimming in them. Nothing gets past Dumbledore, though, and a handkerchief appeared on his lap.

No words spoken. No teasing or mocking, and certainly no  _ punishment _ . Just a moment of silence as Regulus dabbed at his eyes and faced Dumbledore again.

“Professor,” he said, ignoring the pain in his stomach that told him to  _ shut up _ . “I need to tell you something -”

Dumbledore held a hand up. “Please, call me Albus. Or Dumbledore. We are no longer professor and student, but comrades in the fight against the dark.”

Regulus swallowed. “A-Albus. This is - this is urgent. I have information on the Dark Lord.”

“I had a feeling you would say that,” said Dumbledore. He looked oddly proud, as if he’d just had one of those lemon drops he always seemed to love on Halloween. “Tell me, do you speak knowing the full extent of what you’re about to do? If you do, you would be betraying more than Voldemort.”

His family. He would be betraying his family, his legacy, everything - he  _ knew  _ that. But knowing what the Dark Lord had done, what he intended to do, and what he will do; Regulus couldn’t just sit back and watch as this man who would call himself a Lord fashioned himself a crown. Especially not after he touched one of Regulus’ own. 

So, Regulus nodded, face grim.

Dumbledore’s expression turned much more serious, yet that hint of delight still sparkled in his eyes. He seemed to wait for Regulus to speak more.

And speak Regulus did. 

As soon as he opened his mouth, the flood of information came pouring out. Starting from his childhood, the Black family customs that he had faced in the presence of the Dark Lord, to the Death Eaters’ numerous hideouts in the country. It surprised him how little he faltered when referring to the Dark Lord, how - as soon as the mention of him passed his lips - he told Dumbledore in vivid detail about every meeting with the man, every moment Regulus had spent in his circle. Dumbledore frowned with every bit of crucial information Regulus had to share.

Finally, the time came. The time to tell Dumbledore of the shocking truth he had discovered about the Dark Lord’s immortality.

“He’d boast often about how he was immortal,” Regulus explained. “I think he liked hearing the sound of his own voice.”

“Yes, that does sound like Tom,” Dumbledore hummed. Regulus made a mental note on that -  _ Tom was Voldemort’s true name _ .

It surprised him to know that the Dark Lord’s name was not what they assumed, but at the same time he felt relieved that his real name was completely human. Some sort of satisfaction was to be found in that.

“I didn’t think it was a lie, either. He seemed too - too resilient to most things,” Regulus continued. “I had my doubts before, but - the way he spoke, it was as if he cared more for himself than us.” He paused. “No, he  _ did  _ care more for himself than us. He only cares about wizards if they serve a purpose for him.”

There was no room in his shrivelled-up heart for anything other than purebloods. 

“I only followed him for my family. I didn’t want to be - I wanted to make my parents proud.” Regulus hung his head low, running a hand through his hair, covering his ears. “He’d make us watch as he tortured muggles and mud - muggleborns to insanity, then let  _ us  _ have a turn.”

He could still hear them - the screams, petrifying the night. The desperate attempts to bite off their own tongues, clawing at the floor, the  _ satisfaction  _ the other Death Eaters had on their faces when they bore witness to such horror. Regulus never was one for these sessions, having almost thrown up afterwards his first few. 

He regretted every cruciatus curse that passed through his wand, and every imperius curse that forced his victims to do whatever he - the Dark Lord - pleased.

“I didn’t  _ want  _ to do it, I just - I was a coward, I wanted to live, I wanted the Black family to live in prosperity, I didn’t - I didn’t -”

Suddenly he was back in the cave, head under the lake. Disfigured hands snatched and clawed at him, choking him until he was drowning, and it took all of his effort not to throw up as he heard a muffled voice cry out his name. For a moment, a brief moment, he thought it was the Dark Lord, coming to punish him for his betrayal.

It was only when he noticed wizened hands grabbing at his shoulders that he came to. Dumbledore stood before him, holding the trembling boy in place. Regulus heaved through ragged breaths, attempting to recollect himself.

“I do not blame you for your actions, Regulus,” said Dumbledore.

Lies. Lies lies  _ lies _ .

“You are a product of your upbringing. An example of the very children that Voldemort conducts into his circle. The fault lies on me for not noticing you, and the many Slytherins, who found no choice but to seek shelter in his arms.”

“What about the people I’ve tortured? The lives I ruined just by being with him?”

“ _ That  _ is something you will have to seek the answer for yourself,” Dumbledore said, and Regulus had no idea what he meant. “But please, continue - it is of utmost important that you tell me everything you know.”

Regulus sighed, preparing to unload the biggest piece of intel he knew.

“Lord V-Voldemort has horcruxes,” he said. “I don’t know how many - I assumed one, but he always talked about how he’d done something no other wizard in history had done before.”

“...Ah.” Dumbledore looked up, seemingly lost in thought. “Ah.”

Whether the old man had an inkling about this already or not, he had no idea. But this was an important piece of information - one that could lead to the very downfall of the Dark Lord himself.

“Do you know what a - what they are?” Regulus asked.

“I’m aware of them,” Dumbledore answered. “I understood they were a form of dark magic - very advanced dark magic. Most information on them has been wiped out.”

Regulus nodded. “Lord Voldemort -” he shuddered, still not used to the name, “- destroyed any evidence of them existing, from what I gathered. I don’t think he would want anyone else to make one. They were - he split his soul apart, and put part of himself inside something.”

Like a locket, for instance.

Speaking of the locket - where was Kreacher? Did he manage to destroy it?

“And I presume that was why you were in the cave?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes, sir,” Regulus answered. “Once Lord Voldemort  _ harmed  _ one of my own, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. He hurt Kreacher, but he underestimated the power of House Elves.” He looked oddly proud at the mention of House Elves. Because of course, he was proud. Kreacher had outsmarted the Dark Lord. “Kreacher came to me, and told me what Voldemort had done. I acted, and intended on sacrificing my life in the hope that someone someday would be able to bring him down.”

He glanced over to Dumbledore after basically admitting his own death wish, and saw a thousand lives in those blue eyes. Thousands of years that never came to fruition, wrought by a war that should have never been fought. For a moment, he wondered if he made a mistake, that he said the wrong thing - but when Dumbledore smiled, melancholic yet hopeful, Regulus felt himself ease.

“The locket - Kreacher had it, if you saw it. I didn’t know how to destroy it, so I…”

“That matter can come later,” Dumbledore said. “For the moment, I think it best if you rest and gather up your strength. You’ll be meeting the Order in a week.” He offered Regulus a reassuring wink. “Of course, you’ll have my backing.”

His stomach dropped at the mention of the Order. That was right. He was too wrapped up in telling Dumbledore everything that he forgot that his future depended on the decision of his enemies. Dumbledore seemed to notice him paling, and smiled.

“Dear Regulus,” he said, that twinkle in his eyes, “do you honestly think your brother would sell you out?”

No, Regulus thought, but didn’t say out loud.

No. But had their places been switched, Regulus might.

* * *

The professor left as swiftly as he came, telling Remus and Sirius nothing of what had transpired in the guest room but to trust him and Regulus, before disapparating into the night. Not a word was said between the two, not even as the clock ticked by with a cruel reminder of time’s passage. Remus sat by the dinner table, the latest issue of the  _ Daily Prophet  _ discarded nearby. Sirius sat on the kitchen room floor, his knees up to his chest and his head resting on them. 

This wasn’t how he imagined his life would turn out.

Sure, every possible path Sirius could take would end up in heart-break for someone - especially himself. Yet somehow it felt worse when it was his own brother that was in the picture, as much as it hurt when it was Prongs, Wormtail, Moony, or Lily. He didn’t cry (he had dried up all his tears) but damn if it didn’t hurt. 

Breathing in, he lifted his head back and stared at the ceiling. How he desperately wanted a smoke.

His gaze flickered towards Remus. The other man was also looking at him, with a stare that could only be called sympathetic. Sirius scowled. 

“I’m fine,” he snapped, before Remus got the chance to say anything.

Remus sighed. “I know that’s a lie, and that’s not what I was going to ask,” he said, voice calm. Soothing. It reminded Sirius of the ocean at night - gentle waves rocking up to the shore. Suddenly he wished he were at the beach with Moony, instead of - this. “I was going to ask if you’d want to cook something for your brother with me. He’s -”

“You want to cook for a Death Eater?” Sirius asked, brows raised. 

“I want to make something for Regulus Black. Your younger brother.”

Sirius stood up, hands in his pockets and face hung down low. He looked positively dishevelled, and while it would be attractive usually, right now it just looked depressing. Eyeing himself in the mirror, he couldn’t bring himself to look at Remus anymore. 

“I don’t think he considers me his brother anymore.”

“And what about you?” Sirius could almost sense Remus’ jaw clench. “Do you still consider him your brother?”

Sirius shrugged.

_ Of course _ , he wanted to scream.  _ Of course he’s still my stupid younger brother _ . 

But the words never escaped his lips, and all that remained was a thick silence. Remus stared him down from the mirror, standing up and approaching Sirius from behind with a stern gaze. He crossed his arms, the fruits of his condition imminent in the scars on his arms. 

“That could’ve been me, you know,” he said, gesturing to the room where Regulus was staying. “You know how werewolves are treated. If I hadn’t met you guys, maybe things wouldn’t be as good as they are now for me.”

“You’re a good person, Remus.” The reply was instant. Sirius turned to face his friend. “But Regulus has been fed poison his entire life.”

“Then maybe it’s time for some change, Padfoot,” Remus argued. “Regulus needs you right now - more than he needs anyone else. So I’d say it’s high time you step up and act like a brother to him.”

Sirius bit the inside of his lip, his mind processing the implication behind Remus’ words. He hadn’t been a brother to Regulus at all, not since the day when Regulus was sorted into Slytherin and cemented himself as just another snake. Yet here Regulus was, in the other room, having done the impossible and betrayed the snake git. 

Perhaps there was a lion within him after all.

“You’re right,” Sirius muttered. “I haven’t been a good brother. We haven’t been good to each other.”

He remembered when he first saw his brother with the Dark Mark, a herd of Slytherins hovering around the fifth year who at the time he thought looked proud yet nervous - it only now came to him that Regulus was scared. Scared of a world that was far bigger and far more dangerous than anything else he could have imagined.

A boy, all alone in the world, with no one to guide him on the right path.

Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach.

“Merlin, what have I done?” Sirius said. “I left him behind - shit, I promised him. I promised him I wouldn’t, Moony.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

Remus stepped forward, and offered a reassuring pat to Sirius’ shoulder. Without thinking, Sirius pulled Remus into an embrace, leaning down into his shoulder. He didn’t cry, but he didn’t need to.

The silence said a thousand unspoken words.

“We’ll help him, Sirius,” Remus said. “We’ll help him redeem himself.”

“You’re gonna make me fall for you, the way you’re going,” Sirius half-joked. He forced a grin. “How about we get started on dinner? I don’t think he knows I can cook.”

“I don’t think you know how to cook,” Remus sighed. He seemed happy, though, that Sirius was feeling better - at least, not as depressed as he just was. “Just watch me and help, okay? And don’t eat the ingredients.”

The pair cooked a meal worthy of a king (not really, because Sirius muddled up the ingredients and it ended up being a sort of stew rather than a roast), and placed it on a board. Remus flicked his wand lazily and it floated up behind them as they walked to Regulus’ room.

Not even bothering to knock, Sirius opened the door just enough before kicking it open lightly, imitating a muggle movie he saw once. Regulus stared incredulously from where he sat, looking almost dead. Sirius tried not to cringe at his gaunt face, his dehydrated lips, his ashen skin, and the veins that seemed clear as day on him. Instead, he grinned, gesturing to the stew.

“One hearty meal, coming your way,” he said. “I can’t promise it’ll be as any good as the house elf’s, but it’s made with love, y’know.”

Regulus continued to stare.

“Oh! Remus, Regulus. Regulus, Remus.” Sirius patted Remus on the back. “You two have met before, but we’re doing introductions again.”

The stare didn’t stop. Merlin, did he even  _ blink _ ?

“Well, if that’s all -”

“You used to do that,” Regulus said, his voice barely a whisper. “When we were kids. You - you used to kick open my door. When I was crying.”

Sirius froze, suddenly very aware of both his brother and his friend’s eyes piercing into him. A bright blush rose up to his cheeks. 

“Did I? I - I must’ve forgotten,” he laughed. He hadn’t forgotten, but it had been lingering on the back of his mind without him realising. Those days when their mother was in a particularly bad mood, and their youngest copped the worst of it.

Those days were over now, he thought. But, as he walked towards Regulus with the stew and set it down before him, holding up a spoon to feed his brother (because no way was he going to let Regulus, who was too weak to walk, hold a spoon full of steaming liquid), he felt that he could start those days again.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! It would mean a lot to me if you left a comment or kudos too, especially if you liked it!


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